


Now baby don't you know I only aim to please?

by TotemundTabu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Dark Comedy, Foot Fetish, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, past!Jaime/Cersei, past!Robb/Jeyne, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: Robb was not even sure if it was a crush, after all, because while he couldn’t stop thinking about how disgustingly pretty Jaime Lannister was, with those fastidiously bright green-hazel eyes, and those nauseatingly pretty cheekbones that melted in that repulsively square jaw and that golden stubble like traces of gold leaf surviving for centuries, and sure, sure, he could admit Jaime had those repellent, soft shoulders and that revolting, wide chest … and … well, but he found it annoying.He didn’t want to fuck Jaime Lannister, he wanted to just throw him in a trashcan, so he’d be hidden and not so… golden. And shiny.





	Now baby don't you know I only aim to please?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janie_tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/gifts).



> SOMEBODY IS A BIRTHDAY GIRL *throws confetti*  
> Happy birthday to the poor soul who got me into this fandom (so like in case blame her for all the throbb stuff thank you) XD and have one of your little "crack" ships which we all love.  
> Okay the original plan was another thing but that one is taking research time u.u so you all will have this in the meantime so she has something to unwrap ;) !
> 
> Song title is from Lay your hands on me by Bon Jovi.

**Now baby don't you know I only aim to please?**

 

* * *

 

_Help me lay my cards out on the table:_

_you're mine and I'm yours for the taking._

_Right now, the rules we've made are meant for breaking._

 

* * *

 

 

Robb was not a bad student.

He was getting good marks, he loved Classic Studies, and his degree was closer and closer every day.

But, for his damn life, he would have rather chopped off a finger than have to do that damn exam.

He was studying classicism, ancient Greek stuff, for fucks sake, why did he need a contemporary literature course? Who decided those credits were essential to him?

And, especially, who decided to hire Jaime Lannister to teach?

At first, he had hoped the course would have been taught by his brother, Tyrion, who, while a damn Shakespearean, seemed to appreciate every Greek and Roman mythology connection students could make and had a good reputation with essays.

No, that was modern literature.

He got the damn one with the “Black humour and taboo exploration” monographic, who opened his first lesson with a joke about a dead baby crossing the road, stapled to a chicken. 

Fair, Robb was not exactly the black humour kind of guy.

So he had thought that, fine, he would have given it a chance and shut up, not interrupt class, not comment and just wait and see where the course was heading. 

After all, taboos were a topic that had to do with Greek tragedy, no? And while black humour was not the way Greeks went about it, perhaps, it could have been useful … perhaps.

Plus, he did feel guilty at the idea of dropping the course and giving the exam as a not-attending student, partly because his University allowed it only for working students, and partly because, well, it was hard to admit to himself that the professor made him feel quite uneasy.

He didn’t have anything against gay or bi people, absolutely.

He just… never gave much thought to the whole thing.

From fourteen to nineteen he had only dated Jeyne Westerling – they broke up second year of University because they barely saw each other anymore, and Jeyne seemed to have taken a liking to Jon. And since Jon had lost his previous girlfriend, Ygritte, Robb was not going to be that asshole and forbid his cousin from dating his ex, if they liked each other.

And, sure, at times he did look at boys and men, but… in a very theoretical manner, like you look at magazines or actors, but… a real life man? A crush? That was different.

Robb was not even sure if it was a crush, after all, because while he couldn’t stop thinking about how disgustingly pretty Jaime Lannister was, with those fastidiously bright green-hazel eyes, and those nauseatingly pretty cheekbones that melted in that repulsively square jaw and that golden stubble like traces of gold leaf surviving for centuries, and sure, sure, he could admit Jaime had those repellent, soft shoulders and that revolting, wide chest … and … well, but he found it annoying.

He didn’t want to fuck Jaime Lannister, he wanted to just throw him in a trashcan, so he’d be hidden and not so… golden. And shiny. And he wouldn’t make dead baby jokes.

Robb felt annoyed and wounded in his pride enough to also want to prove to himself he could do it.

He could follow that course, do a great exam, and not fight with damn Jaime Lannister.

“Okay. - Jaime Lannister gave one of his sickly perfect smiles, with those damn ugly white teeth and irritatingly shiny blonde hair – Now, I want you to tell me what a taboo is.”

“An action or word that is avoided for religious or social reasons.”, said someone first row.

“Glad you know how to open a dictionary. - Jaime commented, dry – Come on, more.”

“A thing that is prohibited or forbidden for the danger it presents when in contact with us? Objects, people… actions… that just for how they are create an ontological rip in the social fabric.”, said someone else.

“That’s more ethnologically accurate.”

A third person raised their hands, “It’s also something that is on the limit between universal and cultural.”

“True.”

“There is a subconscious component too, isn’t there? - somebody half-screamed from the middle row – Like you consider it forbidden because you are afraid of the consequences of everyone doing it, but forbidding it socially and not only legally makes so that everyone, you included, are less prone to commit it.”

Jaime laughed, “How Freudian! Okay, fair, anything else?”

“They can reveal the history of the society, like its ecologic and economic conditions.”

“Someone read materialist theorists, here. - Jaime nodded, smiling, and Robb felt his stomach sink, he also wanted to make him do that stupid proud face – Good, Marvin Harris, good… - he paused, breathed in – You all pointed out the part of taboos that are excessively repulsive or dangerous, which is the most common idea, but isn’t there another?”

Robb raised his hand, trying not to seem too involved, while his heart was beating so hard through his ribs, threatening to hiccup and trip out.

“Yes? - Jaime smiled – So you can speak! I started to think you lost your tongue to the cat, little mermaid, c’mon, tell us.”

Robb groaned, swallowing down. He was so annoying.

“Something too sacred for ordinary people too. - he said – We attribute to some objects or actions a supernatural or sacred power and meaning, while its use would otherwise be… sacrilegious, and offensive.”

“Good! - Jaime clapped his hands together – Your classmate just explained to us why the priest kink or nun kink exist.”

Robb flushed purple.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, it’s fine, honey. - Jaime smirked, he was probably joking, but Robb was so bad at telling – We all have our tastes and it was exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Robb wanted the earth to open and gulp him down.

“Now, - Jaime continued, with a wicked, smug smile – Tell me the first taboos that come to your mind.”

“Cannibalism?”

“Necrophilia?”

“Fucking animals!”

Jaime laughed, “I see you are all on fire, fine, let me ask you something… are all taboos inherently wrong?”

People frowned.

“Maybe if you think about cannibalism, that’s a hard one to chew down. - someone laughed and Jaime seemed proud – But in older times taboos included homosexuality, bisexuality, in some cultures they included and still include not showing parts of our bodies despite them not being sexual.”

There was a vague grumbling from the students.

Robb found himself listening, for once.

“Those of you from Classic Studies already noticed probably how different taboos in ancient Greece were, something that would be wild to us was okay to them and viceversa. - he glanced at Robb then, as if he knew – But even just… Jewish, let’s talk Jewish, who knows how Jewish people eat?”

A girl in the first row raised her hand, “We eat kosher, sir.”

“Exactly. - he smiled to her and a fit of jealousy whipped Robb’s stomach – They follow Kashrut, a set of dietary laws of religious origin… now, love, tell me, what does kashér mean in Hebrew?”

“Fit. - she replied, quickly – Fit for consumption, according to the halakha.”

“Splendid! - he smiled and clapped his hands – So no pork, shellfish, no mixing meat and milk, shechita process for slaughtering… - he got a sly smug smile on his face – None of us gentiles does that, though, right?”

People shook their heads.

“Doesn’t this mean that we’re all committing a taboo?”

“No, because they’re not universal. - a boy added – Like, it’s their own culture.”

“Great, now, let’s discuss… the colonialist part of it. We don’t seem to have a problem with breaking something that is a taboo for a minority, but we do still frown at non-European societies who performed rituals and sacred processions which included cannibalism or necrophagia.”

Robb rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Jaime Lannister smirked and stared at him.

“You don’t agree?”

“I mean… - Robb scoffed – I don’t think eating or not eating pork and a human being is the same.”

“You also live in your own time in your own culture. - he observed – The Russian famine of 1921, the Holodomor, or the wreck of the Méduse or even the Uruguayan Air Force clash of 1972 should have … we’ve in many occasions had to face how taboos in times of survival lose their hold, haven’t we?”

Robb bit his lips.

He didn’t want to discuss further, that was just ridiculous.

He held his pen tightly, almost breaking it.

Jaime Lannister’s eyes gleamed, a warm, wicked gleam – and his glance lingered on Robb’s hands, on his knuckles.

Then he turned, almost too fast, “Now, in the past lessons we analysed black humour in the context of social critique.”

Someone snickered in the background.

“I want to tell whoever made the joke about cops not changing the light bulb but beating up the room for being black, that it was object of much amusement also in the professors room. - he rubbed his stubble – The guard at the parking lot didn’t appreciate it as much, though, he thought it was… stereotyping cops.”

Robb wondered how he could fake being surprised by this one.

“So, what makes who finds these jokes funny? Is it just those who are not involved? Those who are not the butt of the joke? An afroamerican may both find it funny because it’s a reality he was to cope with but also offensive if they think we don’t condemn the cops or that we find violence hilarious, correct?”

People nodded.

Robb wondered how the fuck to take notes on such a concept. He just groaned.

“Good, now, I want you to make the most offensive, taboo joke you can think of. - Jaime said, resting his hands on the desk behind himself and pushing the back slightly, Robb tried not to imagine making him lay on that desk and … – Give me the worst of the worst, but, it has to have to do with a taboo, and I want all of you to tell me which taboo and who would be the audience in which conditions.”

Robb was already considering just going. He didn’t find those jokes funny, he didn’t see the point. Probably this man just wanted to hear how _forbidden_ and oh, so challenging and instigating making insensitive jokes was.

“Fine, I’ll start. - Jaime said, crossing his arms – A man goes to the pharmacy and says he needs condoms for his twelve year old daughter. The pharmacist, of course, is baffled, what, he says, your daughter is sexually active? The dad says: pffft, no, she just lays there like her mother.”

Somebody did laugh.

Somebody made a gag sound.

Robb just widened his eyes in horror, took his bag and stood up.

Jaime Lannister grinned at him, as if he had hoped for someone to leave like that.

“So outraged?”

Robb didn’t reply, he just went and opened the door.

“If you leave the classroom, you can’t take the exam, redhead!”, Jaime warned him, still half-laughing.

But Robb slammed the door all the same.

 

*

 

Of course, it consequentially dawned on him, pretty early after, that he needed that course.

He needed the credits and he couldn’t do otherwise.

But that meant  _apologizing_ .

And, god, Robb was bad at that.

Gaining forgiveness, that he was good at, learnt with years of being the oldest sibling in a full house. He was also good at making every offence forgotten in three seconds.

But apologizing? He was so bad at it.

He didn’t even crave people apologizing to him, he would forgive anything with good luck. Proud as he was, he’d understand others being too.

But Jaime Lannister was a professor and he seemed to enjoy mocking his students and teasing them; there was no way in hell he was going to admit him back if he didn’t apologize.

He breathed in heavily, considering what to do.

He had been waiting on the door of Jaime Lannister’s office a good fifteen minutes, trying to find the courage and a good excuse to come up with. It didn’t help much that he had kept hearing screaming and shouting.

_Whatever_ , he tried to think,  _knowing the type, he messed up and hurt someone bad_ .

Except the yelling voice got higher and higher and he couldn’t hear Jaime yelling back.

It didn’t seem like a… mutual fight. Or anything of the sort.

He started feeling nervous: whatever, Jaime Lannister was a grown man, healthy, tall and all – he could handle it.

Couldn’t he?

Something crashed on the ground, making a shattering sound that echoed through the corridor.

Robb bit his lips, curious as a cat, and opened the door slightly.

A woman was standing in the room.

She was splendid, hair like melted gold, figure in an emerald green dress so tight Robb felt embarrassed seeing it, her hands crossed right under her bosom, and angry pitch.

“You’re unbearable! You still go on about this.”

“I’m not returning home. - Jaime Lannister replied, calmly, picking up from the ground glass shards, there was water spilled, his right hand was bleeding rivulets of red – And this attitude doesn’t really help.”

The woman sucked her lips, glaring thunders at him.

Only then Robb noticed how alike they looked.

Almost too much alike.

“Jaime, for the last time. - a groan, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling and kicked away a shard, making Jaime stand up almost too quickly, almost as if he were scared – He’s my husband, it’s normal that I have to fuck with him sometimes. - she came close to him and caressed his arm and squeezed the biceps – You are the only one I love.”

Robb felt suddenly uncomfortable hearing that conversation and was about to close the door when she held Jaime’s jaw, pulled him down and kissed him.

Jaime Lannister struggled, moaned in distress, putting an arm between them, trying to push her away without force. He couldn’t really hit her, she’d fall behind, she was smaller than him.

“Cersei. - he almost roared, low, trying to move her away, but she pressed him to the wall, hand on his cock – Cersei, no.”

She squeezed him harder.

“I love you, and you love me. - she reminded, sharp, a thin metallic grin – Don’t do things you’ll regret.”

He bit his lips.

Robb felt his heartbeat strangled, something in his chest hurt.

It didn’t feel right.

“Let me go.”

“Move me.”

“You know I can’t.”, he whispered, angry.

She grinned, “I knew it.”

“Cer...”

Jaime’s voice was soft and dense, wine and poison, it all mixed like pure hell. He sounded aroused but scared, wounded but enamoured. A fit of unfair jealousy slapped Robb’s heart like a wave.

“It will be just you and me. - she unzipped his pants – Like when we were twelve… and you...”

And then Robb knocked loudly at the door.

Jaime startled, the woman too seemed to flinch, leaping up.

Robb coughed loudly and opened the door, trying to seem natural, but unable to bring himself to stare at the two in their faces.

“I, uh, came here for the thesis, professor.”

Jaime Lannister’s eyes shone in an understanding gleam. His lips twitched in relief and disbelief.

He let out a thin gasp, almost a broken chuckle, “Yes, Stark, thank you. - he turned to Cersei – I’m afraid we will have to pick this up another moment.”

She tensed up a curtain-curve smile. “Sure. - she patted his chest – I’ll tell father you’re still being stubborn.”

She exited the room without even glancing at Robb, for which he was most grateful.

… father?

He frowned, then looked up, finding Jaime smirking with a humiliated, vulnerable glimpse in his eyes, while he put up a mask of smug cockiness.

“Enjoyed the show? - he asked, ruthless and clumsy – I didn’t take your for a peeper.”

Robb’s lips quivered, he hesitated.

Then he saw again the bloody hand and the half-hard cock.

“...are you hurt?”

Jaime was turned away already, but his shoulders shivered visibly. He stopped, his breath still and fragile in the air.

“It’s just a cut.”

Robb frowned, then moved forward. He was not sure what to say: he was a professor, not really a friend, and sure enough he didn’t ask for help or an opinion…

“I wanted to apologize for how I behaved. - he swallowed down, dry – I didn’t come to spy on you, but...”

Jaime chortled, “And yet here you are.”

“Your… sister? - he turned to the door, as if staring at where the woman had gone from could in any way give him the words – She, that’s...”

“I don’t expect you to understand how delicate the situation is, so if you could take your moral rigidity out of my office, I...”

Robb’s hand grasped Jaime’s wrist.

“You’re bleeding. - Robb said, not staring at him, focusing on the hands, the big, bony hands, softly painted with blue veins – And looked scared.”

“I’m not scared. - Jaime’s mouth twitched up again, but he looked as tense as a wax mask – I know her, which is more than I can say for you.”

He tried to jerk Robb away, but Robb didn’t let him.

“I know she’s a woman, but this is wrong. You shouldn’t put up with it.”

“You don’t know Cersei. - he said, and it sounded both resigned and defensive – She means me no harm.”

“If you were a girl...”

“But I’m not! - he shouted, his hair moving and his forehead sweating – I’m not, and if I were I’d probably be the same as her, so, if the moral lesson is over...”

Robb then glared at him.

His blue eyes raw with anger.

“Why is it that a joke about a twelve year old girl is dark and black and meant to make us scandalized and horrified, but you being cut and groped should give me no reaction? - he asked, firm, his voice boiling hot, it scorched down Jaime’s chest, making him feel naked and paralysed – The joke would work also if it were a boy, seems to me.”

Jaime sucked his bottom lip, then bit it.

He glanced at the door, and Robb followed his eyes. It was closed, but it probably didn’t feel safe enough.

Before he turned, Jaime had sighed.

“What you saw is not… she is feeling upset because I left.”

Robb tried not to think about the relatives part and gulped down that hoarse confession.

She was married, he was not. No wedding band to his fingers. She talked about a husband. She said … like when they were twelve.

Robb felt almost sick.

“I don’t think someone who cares about you… would let you bleed like this and not try to bandage it.”, he just said, softly.

Jaime’s eyes glimmered.

A wicked smirk rose on his lips, “At least, outside of the bed, you mean?”

Robb felt his ears raise and turn red.

He turned to Jaime, with absurd heat on his face. “Are you for fucking real?”

Jaime laughed out loud.

“I’m trying to be serious!”

Jaime instead shook his head, “You’re so serious, Stark. - he smiled and grabbed his bag – Come, I’ll offer you a cup of coffee.”

Robb sighed and rolled his eyes, emitting a low groan before accepting.

It hit him only after that, to know his surname, Jaime Lannister must have had to ask.

 

*

 

Jaime laughed uncontrollably.

“Oh my god! - he snorted – And you realized only then my course was mandatory? - he held his stomach with a hand – Oh, fuck, well, it seemed a bit too ‘suck my cock’ just standing up and going.”

“I didn’t think, okay?”, Robb blurted out.

He was smiling, he knew he was.

He didn’t know why Jaime Lannister now didn’t grind on his nerves, why he felt good to be next to, taking a coffee, so relaxedly, as if nothing was big or important.

But it felt good.

He had ordered some fancy coffee of those with the specified origin and it looked more expensive than anything Robb had ever eaten, let alone drunk.

When Robb ordered, Jaime laughed – not mocking, not evil, just amused – and commented “Oh, god, you’re so  _young_ ”.

“How so?”, he asked.

“Can you even taste the coffee with all that milk and cream and syrup?”

Robb shrugged and brought the latte to his lips, smiling, happy like a child. “I like sweet things, life is enough bitter.”

“You know, - Jaime smirked, as if he were… genuinely having fun, mixing his bitter ass mono-origin pitch black coffee – A study found that having a sweet tooth may be connect to pro-social behaviour and kindness.”

Robb seemed embarrassed, he adverted his eyes.

“I’m quite the selfish person, actually.”

Jaime almost snorted, “You don’t give that vibe.”

Robb sucked his lips, then found his eyes glued on Jaime’s. They were plump and pink and his blond stubble looked like sprinkled gold.

And he wondered how it would have felt to kiss him.

He had kissed only Jeyne before, for how pathetic it sounded. She tasted sweet and he liked it, they had their first kiss on a night at the carousel and she had just eaten candy floss; Robb remembered feeling dizzy with happiness, as if fireflies had all lit up in his belly.

He had shivered against her and held her tight, as clumsy as every fourteen year old is.

She always tasted sweet, but he was not sure if it was her or girls or… did men taste differently? Would Jaime taste like coffee or just like heat-? Would the stubble scratch him?

He felt stupid.

Jaime was straight. So straight.

He had exactly zero hope.

He… he was looking at his lips back. Staring, even. Longingly.

Robb shivered, stiffening up.

“I- uh. - he mumbled, panicky, he was sure he had dreamt it, imagined it, hoped it – Thank you for… readmitting me to the course.”

Jaime seemed to move slightly back then, he fidgeted and clenched his fist and gave a thin smirk.

“It’s fine, I like to feel needed and you begged me enough. - he joked – But I’ll ask you the meanest questions at the exam.”

Robb felt something flutter in his belly again.

And he was sure it burnt.

Like lights, like fires, like …

He gulped down, “Just don’t ask me to come up with anything original.”

Jaime chuckled and then slid a piece of paper on the table.

“This is the book list of the program. Most people have to read just the manual and two of these, you’ll read four.”

André Breton, Anthology of Black Humor. Of course. Stephen King’s stuff… Heller… a bunch of Vonnegut… Anthony Burgess, ugh, Kundera. Burroughs… American Dark Comedy: Beyond Satire by Gehring? Really now?

He sighed.

Jaime seemed so amused, he licked his lips and his eyes shone, mischievous.

Almost childish.

Almost innocent.

Robb felt gutted and crucified right there.

“C’mon. - Jaime said, laughing – Now I’m curious, what do you actually like?”

“Uh. - Robb sucked his lips – Well, Sophocles and...”

“No no no! - he moved a finger in front of him, smiling wide – Contemporary stuff only.”

“Roth, Bradbury, Steinbeck. - then he paused, _fuck it, why not?_ – Leavitt.”

Jaime blinked.

“David, really? - his lips curled sharply – What may you even like of his? Equal affections?”

“The lost language of cranes, mostly… Family Dancing. The Marble Quilt. Arkansas. - Robb breathed in, licked the back of his teeth – The Indian Clerk.”

Jaime scanned him with hesitating eyes.

He didn’t dare to smile. It was just a hint of a complicit smirk. And then, he lowered his green eyes.

They looked different from his sister’s.

Despite looking almost entirely the same for the rest, hers were always glowing, intense, like green flames – copper and boron burning inside out of her, searing her flesh with her own horror – while he looked so tender, so fragile.

Walked on grass.

Hardened pine needles.

Glass smoothed by the sea.

Robb felt words of possession hesitate on his lips.

What a foolish thing to hope for – he wondered if he had it easy when he liked Jeyne, when he loved someone fitting, someone who sat on his side of the river. Jaime… Jaime would never see him.

He was caressing a forbidden idea, teasing a heat that would have consumed him.

A straight man. Pft.

He was invisible in that way, in that sense.

And yet, by god, he liked him, he wanted him. He wanted Jaime to see him, to want him.

… but that couldn’t happen, could it?

Ahah. How silly.

“You didn’t seem the type.”

“The type to read gay authors or…?”, he raised his eyebrows, but diverted his eyes.

That was as close to coming out as he was going to be.

He didn’t even know why he said that bit about Leavitt. Maybe he had hoped for a signal back.

Maybe he… maybe he was that much of a delusional, pathetic child.

How was he so bad at resigning himself?

One thing was getting a crush on someone you can’t have, another insisting with idiotic hope and getting yourself hurt.

He was dancing too close to the light bulb, he was going to fry.

“To read them. - Jaime replied, his hands dangerously lingering on the rim of his coffee cup, ceramic that felt like smouldering flesh, Robb could just think about Jaime’s fingers dancing like that on his stomach, on his chest, in the panted out sweating mess, chilled by droplets of afterglow – But I suppose you are full of surprises.”

Robb let out the most choked, strangled, awkward laugh he could remember ever laughing.

He was surprised it didn’t come off sounding like a pig’s grunt.

“Thanks.”

Robb stiffened, realizing Jaime was looking at him again, with renewed curiosity in his eyes. He was like a cat, and damn, Robb knew only how to behave around dogs.

“Just so… we’re clear...”

Robb blinked.

Jaime showed a small smirk, pointed his finger, “Professor Oberyn Martell said you’re his best student, so I’m expecting a lot from you.”

… he asked about him?

Robb held onto his coffee cup, the drink still warming up his hands.

It would have been so easy to just speak up.

That was pathetic. He bit his lips.

Being friendly was fine, being friendly was enough.

 

*

 

Jaime Lannister had taken the habit of finishing his lessons and then throwing him a glance.

Robb had taken the habit of not returning home directly, but waiting in the classroom, seeing if Jaime would call him. And he would.

With a quick movement of the hand at times, other times it was a laugh and a “come down, Stark”.

The best times, Jaime would walk towards him, almost jumping between the seats, athletic despite his midthirties, and he’d have this huge smile on his face as if nothing could ever ruin his day.

Jaime would offer a coffee, a chat, throw Robb a book or a movie title.

And Robb would get them, accept those, they were little crumbles of affection and attention he couldn’t refuse.

He didn’t stop wanting more, but he realized that waiting with anticipation and delirious happiness over something small would have granted him to survive his haste and hunger for more, at least for a while.

For a little bit.

At least until he’d get over it.

It would happen eventually, right?

Right?

That day Jaime turned to him, bright, but then got interrupted, stopped brutally, while he was about to tell him to move down from the seats near to him; his brother had come to talk. Robb bit his lip and sat back, looking in his bag, unsure if he was using that excuse for Tyrion, for Jaime, or for himself.

“Cersei told me you upset her.”, Tyrion mumbled, frowning, perplexed.

Jaime shrugged, groaned, “I didn’t know she told you things.”

“Not sober. - Tyrion admitted, pouting just a second before assuming a confused yet curious expression – You really seem to be done with her this time.”

“I am.”, Jaime said. Simply and clean.

He raised his eyes, looking for Robb.

Tyrion followed that look, glanced, and saw the red haired boy in the chair, clearly just pretending to be looking for something unfoundable in a half-empty bag.

“Thought you more of a blondes fan.”, he observed.

Jaime let out a low chortle, whispering, “He’s just a student.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

“Do I have fool written all over my face?”

Jaime suffocated a laugh, licking his lips. He spoke low-voiced.

“I didn’t say I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well, he is an adult, you’re an adult. - Tyrion shrugged – Bit unorthodox, but given the university didn’t fire Baelish, I think we can consider you safe.”

Jaime imitated a shiver, “Regardless. - he mumbled, glancing at Robb to make sure he was still there – I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

Tyrion blinked, surprised.

“You’ve already decided if it happens it will be serious? - he turned to the boy – I think you two could also take it slow and easy and see where it goes. Go step by step and stop bandaging a wound that doesn’t exist yet.”

Jaime boiled a huff in his mouth and handed his brother a folder, “These are the articles you wanted, by the way.”

“Tell him. - Tyrion said, winking – I don’t think he realizes he can hope.”

Jaime rolled his eyes, “Stop playing enticer, Tyrion.”

Tyrion smirked, satisfied with his tempting skills, and grabbed the folder, moved away, waking out of the room, asking, with enough fake innocence to feel thick and bruising on Jaime’s skin, “What was your favourite then again? Now, now, baby, don't you know I only aim to please? If you want me to lay my…”

Jaime rolled his eyes back, then turned to Robb.

“Still there?”

Robb seemed embarrassed to nod and let out a strained laugh, “I think I lost my pen.”

Jaime let out a smug smirk.

“What did you say your thesis was on?”

Robb swallowed, staring at Jaime’s neck, enhanced and enchanted, “The changes of celebrations and passages, myths concerned with personal and community phases.”

Jaime clacked his tongue against his palate, letting out a wide grin.

“I was wondering if maybe Atwood’s The Penelopiad or Wolf’s Medea may be of interest to you.”

Robb gulped down.

“Sure.”

“Come with me, then. - Jaime said, sucking his lips, then his voice smacked back, almost whipping, so hot that Robb felt his stomach clench – We can go to my place and I’ll lend them to you.”

Robb nodded, weakly and foolishly.

“I’d like that...”

“I imagined.”

 

*

 

Jaime Lannister’s apartment was smaller than he would have imagined. It was a one floor space with a living room, kitchen and only two bedrooms. Given the money the Lannister corp. had, Robb had imagined that man lived at least in a building just for him.

Most of the apartment was occupied by plants and books, movie vhs – who even still kept vhs around – and a vulgar amount of vinyls.

And… a blue baseball sweater kept almost as a holy relic? That was weird.

Robb looked around, curious.

He would have liked to have the cheeky audacity to just tell Jaime he wanted to see his bedroom and pin him on the bed.

… the situation was degenerating, his mind was in the gutter.

Jaime sprawled on the bed, wrists and ankles tied at the cardinal points, dick red, throbbing in need, a pretty scarf stuffing that irritating mouth of his mute, Robb’s cock pushing through him, making him let out drenched, muffled moans.

White spilling.

“Stark?”

Robb flinched, startled, laughed nervously, fell on the ground, tripping on something.

… soft.

Jaime picked up a ball of ginger fluff that had a murderous look, “Crimson King, please! - he rubbed his nose against the cat who meowed loudly in protest, and then glanced at Robb again – Did you hurt yourself?”

“...you have a cat?”

“Actually, it’s an iguana, he just has a condition. - Jaime replied, hardly keeping in a chortle – Yes, you can call him King.”

Robb stared, distrustful, and moved a hand a bit closer.

“Does he bite?”, he asked, wary.

“Only feet. - Jaime said, observing the cat sniffling Robb’s hand and then licking it – He decided you can be food, congratulations.”

Robb laughed.

“I never… you know, he’s cute.”

“For being not-a-dog?”

“For being not-a-dog. - Robb laughed again, caressing the little orange head, lifting his eyes to meet Jaime’s, trying to find the courage to speak up and ending up with a croaky, hard voice – It’s not like we… have to like just one thing, right?”

Jaime’s eyes turned softer. Liquid in a bright light.

“I don’t think anyone does.”

Robb felt his stomach twist and twitch.

He glanced at Jaime’s wrists, at his hands, daydreaming about tying them.

Jeyne would have never let him.

He glanced at his hips, wanting to bite them, to dig into them, to grip them as he’d …

Behind Jaime, though, was a photograph, and that kind of slapped Robb across the stomach and twisted a knot in his spine. It was him, Tyrion and Cersei.

Cersei was kissing him on the cheek and Jaime looked like he was blushing.

They were not older than ten.

His lips quivered. Jaime turned and saw it, then he emitted a low sigh.

“It… seemed too good to be true that you wouldn’t find it disgusting. - he chuckled, bitterly – I don’t need a mor...”

Robb pulled him by the shirt, trying to make him come closer, and slammed his mouth on Jaime’s.

Jaime tried to back away, moved one foot back, almost tripped, hitting his own table, while Robb didn’t leave the shirt, holding onto it so tight his knuckles went white, and pushing into Jaime, until the older man opened his mouth, welcoming the eager tongue.

Robb was a couple of centimetres taller and fairly bigger than Jaime, which he found a weird, scorching pleasure in noticing. He felt so… 

He closed his eyes, letting his jaw drop and allowing Robb’s tongue to fully invade him, his lips to rest and burn on their shared wet breathes. Their heartbeats drummed away.

Jaime’s hands left the table behind him and moved on Robb’s hips, caressing them, on the back, sliding towards Robb’s ass.

His legs spread slightly, allowing Robb to move even closer, even more intimate.

His veins rushed with purple desire.

Thunderstruck by the black of the waiting they shared, all at once, they both got burned and reddened bloody by the haste, the hunger, the urgency.

Robb’s hands rushed to explore Jaime’s body, moving the shirt, breaking buttons, Jaime almost scooted on the table, trying to get his hands to untie Robb’s belt.

He tasted wonderfully.

He felt so good against him.

The stubble scratched, the hairs tickled, and he had the aftertaste of cigarettes – his big hands squeezed his ass tight and Robb bucked his hips, rubbing their crotches together.

It felt so good – it was heaven, it was a migraine.

In the intense perfection of the outrageous heat, Robb’s hand rushed to Jaime’s long blonde hair, pulling them, jerking him, taking control and bending his head as he pleased, to dig deeper into him.

Jaime moaned into the kiss, rolling instinctively his hips against Robb’s.

They parted, panting.

“She can’t have you. - Robb dug his teeth in Jaime’s neck, sucking hard, then licking the nerves, riding to the earlobe – She doesn’t deserve you.”

Jaime tried to laugh but his heart sunk.

He pulled Robb closer by the back, putting a hand on Robb’s head and inviting him to bite his neck harder, to the blood even.

He bent his head back, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, as he felt a hickey bloom purple on the surface of his skin.

Robb was hungry as a wolf.

Jaime’s moans were low and dark, wet with desire and dry with lack of breath. There was no more air in the room, or so it seemed to Robb – heat was crawling through them, eating them alive.

It burnt through his lungs the foolish lust.

Jaime’s responses got wilder, louder, he grabbed Robb, sinking his nails into Robb’s back, claiming him close. Robb let out a choked grunt of pleasure and bit Jaime’s shoulder, before peppering his sternum with kisses, while trying to pull the shirt completely away.

Jaime’s breath quivered.

“Wait, wait. - he panted and Robb stared at him, terrified – Wait.”

Was he going to pull away? To hide? Did he understand all wrong? How did he dare to hope that… that golden god would ever …

“Bed. - Jaime whispered, in something between a breathless, obscene prayer, almost begging – Let’s go on the bed.”

Robb’s mouth tensed in an incredulous, small smile.

He closed his eyes, smiling wider, nodded and kissed Jaime again.

Robb almost pulled him, leaping across the apartment as if it were a field; he opened the door and smiled seeing the bed and the surroundings didn’t seem like the cave of a playboy or like Jaime programmed to bring people there daily. It was not dirty or anything, but it was full of books around, and paper, and the cotton sheets were nothing first time fancy deal, there were anxiety pills on the damn drawer and even a box of coffee kernels.

Robb felt something inside of him relaxing.

Jaime seemed to linger a moment longer on the doorstep, breathing in.

Robb wondered if … maybe since that last break up… maybe not in general… right?

He licked his lips.

“I’ve never done it with a man. - he admitted, almost ashamed of his own honesty – So, if, if you see me doing something idiotic… tell me?”

Jaime relaxed then, his shoulders softening and his lips coming up in a cocky, little smirk.

“Oh, Leavitt boy, so forward and yet so green!”

Robb rolled his eyes, sighing, but smiling.

“I deserve that, fine.”

Jaime moved to the bed, letting himself fall on it. He finished taking off his shirt and unzipped and undid his pants, throwing both of them on the side off the bed. Robb stared, gulping down.

He stared at Jaime’s body, feeling all of a sudden a flush of realization.

He was a new person.

He used to see a body for years, one he had grown knowing in its scars and signs, one he could trace a map of the birthmarks of, one he had seen becoming from a girl’s to a woman’s and go through different sizes and times and colours – between the toned sweated summer tan or the pale freckled-stained winter softness. A familiar body, even, he had come to be used to as if his own.

Jaime was still new: he had no map for him, no instructions, no chronology.

Where did Cersei kiss or bite or suck? Was the scar he saw near the hip from sport or accident or pleasure? When did hairs come through?

He felt hungry and curious.

He took off his shirt and threw off the jeans, moving on all fours on the bed, near him.

Jaime was smiling, sly, only fakely innocent, with his eyebrows raised in anticipation. He had his hands at the sides, relaxed, as if he was just waiting to be taken.

Robb gulped dry and moved over him, kissing gently his chest, caressing the stomach, holding the side of it with a mix of crave and reverence.

He passed his tongue on Jaime’s small dark nipples and he seemed to find it funny, but not mockingly so. He passed a hand in Robb’s curls, tenderly, and Robb sucked on the nipple this time, nibbled it almost.

Jaime choked a moan.

Robb’s mouth enveloped the nipple more, while his fingertips dug into Jaime’s hip, they left bruised prints and Jaime bit his lips and arched his back.

Robb’s hands ran on Jaime’s body, caressed the harder abs and squeezed gently the softer bits, love handles welcoming his pinch. Jaime whined, his forehead starting to shine in salty sweat.

Robb kissed him more and more, he passed his tongue in the navel, tip entering in the soft, scarred hole. Jaime bucked, muffled a scream.

The first wound burnt him sweet like honey.

Jaime curled his toes, bit his lips shut, feeling almost like a child, almost ridiculous. Robb’s wide tongue was tormenting and teasing him, squishing a nerve that ran through his whole spine and fucked a thunder through him.

His marrow melted away.

He felt Robb smirking against his abdomen and then move towards his tights.

“You’re all golden...”, Robb mumbled, almost saying it to himself.

Jaime looked at Robb: he had dark hairs, brownish with the rare auburn-red shine, but thicker and murkier than his.

For once, he didn’t feel golden like Cersei.

“Do you feel like checking if the carpet matches the drapes?”, he asked, feeling himself stirring aroused.

Robb laughed, looking at Jaime’s half-hard cock peeping for attention, tensing in the dark blue underwear.

Robb glanced though, before at Jaime’s legs and said, “Just a moment-”, moving towards his feet.

He took one of Jaime’s feet and started to kiss it, adoringly so, softly peppering it, nuzzling against it. Jaime sucked his lips, closed his eyes.

It felt good, sure, but not incredible.

His skin tickled with the kisses, like a light fever pins and needles through you.

And then Robb’s tongue wrapped his toe, while his fingers pressed at the bottom of the sole. Jaime thrust in the empty air, fucking the thin void.

Jaime let out a deep heart-rooted scream of bliss, and Robb smirked against his toes, starting to pass his tongue through them, in the sensitive folds at their base, before taking the big one in his mouth and sucking and nibbling it.

Robb’s fingers pressed on the tenderest part of the foot and Jaime’s back arched fast as if whipped in an obscenely splendid curve.

He dripped sunlight and moans.

Robb licked the sweet toes, nibbling gently, twisting his tongue in between them, finding all the nerves to set him alight.

Jaime’s underwear started to damp dark, his breaths got soft – spineless, electric.

Jaime’s voice shivered fragile, as he moved to take his briefs off.

Robb almost laughed, helped him slide them off and then grabbed Jaime’s wrists. “Allow me.”, he whispered, hotly, using the briefs to tie his wrists together, bit too tight, but not painfully so.

Jaime bit his bottom lip, his cock throbbed, as he saw he couldn’t undo the knot.

“Boyscout.”, Robb said in a breath.

Jaime was sure it was the first time that word could sound sensual.

In the depth of redness, Robb moved to the thighs, kissing them gently, sucking softly, brushing with his lips on the tender skin of the inner side, his tongue exploring the saltiness before kissing on Jaime’s balls. He sucked the salty skin, tensing and tightening under his mouth, filling in need.

He chuckled, tea-bagging them devotedly, seeing Jaime roll his hips, fucking himself on his mouth, desperate for more.

Robb’s tongue lapped the shaft, painted it with burning heat.

White hot thunders ran through Jaime’s nerves.

He bucked, ashamed, intensity taking over him. Waves crushed and shook him open.

Jaime whined husky moans, his hoarse voice turning to liqueur in the moaned through heated air.

Robb grabbed the shaft and started licking the foreskin, sucking it gently, pulling it with reverential awe, before passing his large tongue on the skin crown, and then brushing his reddened lips on the wet pulsing cockhead.

Jaime shuddered, shivers running through him like a scorching drenched fever.

Sweat droplets stained his skin glimmering.

Robb smiled wide, enjoying the drunk whip of pride that came from having absolute control over that man. He sent him through so much panic and so many heartbeats, and yet there he was completely unravelled and melted in a hot mess in the sheets, begging for a blowjob.

Robb’s mouth welcomed the desperate prayer and he took the head in.

Whereas being used to a girl scared him before, now it didn’t.

He knew what he liked in a blowjob.

He relaxed his jaw, forgot his apple and reflex and bobbed his head, taking in as much as he could, enveloping Jaime’s desperate shivering cock with his mouth and throat.

When Jaime felt his head against the back of Robb’s throat, a curse escaped him.

He felt about to die.

It felt so sweltering, blazing.

The air sizzled, sultry, their moans grew feverish, igneous. And searing pleasure ran up and down Jaime’s cock as Robb’s head moved, taking over completely every persistence Jaime could have had.

Jaime’s dick leaked soft precome, spilling on Robb’s tongue.

Robb sucked harder, teasing and courting the crown, the slit, the oversensitive skin feeling like melting sugar on his tastebuds.

Jaime cried, closing his eyes, rolling them back behind his eyelids and, mouth agape, open to a mute scream, hips bucking in the void, and back arched up, he let out a desperate sigh.

It pulsed through him the overwhelming pleasure of being taken care of.

Loved.

For once, it felt like that.

And he came, letting go of all of himself, and moaning a hoarse whimper.

Robb kept the cock in his mouth and sucked it clean, making the oversensitive, raw Jaime quiver under him, before swallowing completely, and smiling. He licked his lips, satisfied.

“You taste good.”

Jaime snorted, covering his eyes, suddenly shy.

“I don’t.”

Robb felt almost offended, he moved closer to him, their mouths on the line. He smiled and stared directly in Jaime’s green eyes with his raw azure ones.

“You do. - his lips bloomed in a tiny kiss and he opened his mouth and allowed Jaime to kiss him and exchange the after taste of his own flavour, tongue meeting and rubbing intensely, before he parted again – Don’t you agree, sweetie?”

Jaime gulped down, stiffening at that.

Not displeased, Robb noticed.

He lifted his head and stared at Jaime’s tied wrists.

He sucked his lips.

“Can I gag you? - he asked, hesitating and then all at once – You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Jaime’s bottom lip trembled. He was not sure how to admit it to himself.

Robb grabbed back his shirt from the bed and moved to Jaime again.

He put it in Jaime’s mouth, enough deep to muffle but not to make it impossible for him to spit in case it went overboard. Jaime’s eyes though burned lucid and liquid in arousal as he placed it.

Robb raised his eyebrows and caressed Jaime’s hair.

“What a good boy. - he cooed, wicked – He likes being put in his place.”

His hand moved to Jaime’s shaft again, stroking it first delicately and then firmly, Jaime arched on his toes, a scream of pleasure got lost in the gag.

“Such a good baby deserves a nice prize.”, Robb murmured, staring in awe, hard as a rock, at Jaime writhing under his words.

Robb moved his hand to the dresser and opened the first drawer: condoms, lube. Oh.

He took it out, with a smug smile on, biting his lips.

He moved the plug in front of Jaime’s eyes, “You like this inside you? - he murmured softly – You put it in when you jerk off?”

Jaime let out a frustrated whimper.

Robb chuckled and put on a condom.

“I’m kind of relieved. - he admitted, moving to Jaime and pouring lube on his fingers and spreading it on the pink rim of Jaime’s asshole – I was afraid I would have hurt you. - he pushed one finger in and it entered, oh so easy – I’m not very good at controlling myself.”

Jaime’s eyes rolled back.

Robb’s finger was so warm, it felt so hot inside of him, as if flames leaped and licked his flesh.

Jaime shivered, pushing against Robb’s finger, swallowing him to the knuckles.

Robb felt himself growing harder, as he added another finger, curling and searching for Jaime’s prostate, trying to find the knot of nerves that would make Jaime thaw.

It ran through his spine like a shock and sat in his bones like a lake of fire.

Robb pushed the third finger in, staring as Jaime’s ass swallowed them eagerly and hungrily.

Jaime let out a dark whimper, a trembling moan.

All of him shuddered, his voice muffled but his heartbeat loud as drums, dim din deafening him.

He was hard again, throbbing for attention.

Shivers twisted in sleek wet flames and ran down his veins, the ice melting in a fever – and Robb poured more lube, this time on his own cock.

Jaime let out a dry chuckle through the fabric of his gag.

Robb grabbed his thighs, parting them further, moving his hips between them. There, Jaime felt it, imposingly, pressing against his hole.

Gut-wrenching frenzy, hurtful delight.

The pressure grew and Robb started to slide in, slow and steady. Jaime tried to relax, ordered his muscles to soften, but every inch felt like a rush of adrenaline fresh into his guts, whipped in his spine.

Robb thrust in, closing his eyes, breathing out.

He seemed to struggle to control himself, holding back, moving slowly, biting his lips to the pulp.

Inch after inch, not close to stoping, and still trying desperately not to rush or be rough.

Jaime crossed his legs behind Robb’s back, around his waist and pushed him forward, welcoming more of him.

Robb stared, wide-eyed and aroused beyond control or chains.

Jaime threw his head back, smiling through the gag, arching his back in a shallow breath, as he felt Robb’s whole shaft entering him fully.

It tensed through him, widening him. He felt stretched and loose and used.

But not exploited, for once.

The heat ran through him boiling, a dancing violet flame bruising through his nerves.

It took over, wild and perfect.

Robb pushed harder, and his balls slapped on Jaime’s sensitive skin. His hands caressed Jaime’s chest, searched for his ribcage and then hips to hold him closer, to feel him.

“Lay your hands on me...”, Jaime tried to whisper, finding his mouth all closed up

His voice danced between a sob and a moan, as Robb pushed through, slammed. He shoved all of himself in, slipping then out almost entirely, just to drive back in, harder, rougher.

Jaime’s eyes rolled to the ceiling.

His eyesight blurred.

Thunders echoed in murmuring screams through him, riding his veins, crashing him open, cut in half from bliss.

Robb frowned, furrowing his eyebrows, containing himself barely, the struggle not to let go painted on his reddened face. Freckles turned to fire.

He thrust again and again, labouring to find a rhythm, to dance his hips into Jaime’s aching eager flesh.

Robb’s throat clenched shut as pleasure seemed to overcome him. And hunger, raw and messy hunger.

He drove in, trying to find again that point that sent Jaime insane, making him melt in a puddle of bliss, and he hit it, over and over, the shaft pressing it, playing with it, hammering it.

Jaime’s eyes filled with tears. His voice came out all wretched and drenched, the shirt in his mouth becoming wetter and wetter with his saliva and panting.

It felt unfairly good, ridiculously so.

His body seemed to melt from inside, coming undone.

As if the waves of pleasure decided to corrode him, stone in the sea.

Jaime was so soft and so hot inside, so absurdly perfect, like a sheath made for his cock, that Robb could just move slowly, rock his hips trying not to spill, not yet, enjoying the moment, the closeness, the way Jaime looked so lost in bliss under him.

Jaime writhed, jerked, thrashed.

Robb thrust into him grabbing his hips and forcing them to completely take him. His cock slammed again, merciless and cruel in the sweetest cave of nerves. Jaime was sure if one could die from sex, he would have had then.

Crave echoed through Jaime and caught him in an undertow of desire – Robb's brutal pounding fucked him raw and oversensitive – then overwhelming.

Jaime could barely perceive any part of his body, any limb, any inch of skin, all of him had become his own trembling dick, slapping on his stomach dripping precome, and the hole Robb fucked, hard and relentless. His emptiness was the most alive part of him.

Every nerve every vein every cell was screaming for him.

Calling Robb’s cock, desperately needing relief for his own.

Jaime’s dick dripped – white-hot bliss rushed all over it, inside it, fucking his spine – but it was his hole that cried in rapture.

It was too much.

Pleasure and pain verged, twisted, in an ecstasy so thick Jaime could taste its dirty honeyed flavor in the protests and begging he couldn’t vocalize.

He came again, dripping ribbons of white, screaming muffled, while Robb loudly grunted, biting his lips, bruising his legs, pushing hard and rough.

His dick was still twitching after the release, his hips crying needy and writhing; but Robb didn’t stop, his movements getting erratic but still strong, still voracious.

He pushed and drilled Jaime’s prostate and throbbed against it.

His cock so big inside it was almost painful between the raw, oversensitive walls, and yet so needed, so wanted, so desired.

Robb trembled, slowed down, his hips rolling and… Jaime spat the shirt out and locked their lips together in a kiss, moving his hips, fucking himself on Robb’s aching cock.

And there Robb came, moaning in Jaime’s mouth, coming in his ass, eyes closed and mouth open.

He screamed and groaned, filling Jaime up to the brink.

And Jaime kissed his forehead after, tender.

He kissed his closed eyelids, and Robb pushed him down on the bed.

“Again.”, he claimed.

Jaime smirked, intrigued.

 

*

 

Robb opened his eyes slowly, letting the light come through the curtains.

He moved to his side, staring then at Jaime, who was resting, eyes closed and parted lips, breathing with a soft snore.

He breathed in his smell, the leftover aroma of sex and sweat.

He had no idea whether that was going to mean a lot or a little, to be the partner of a lifetime or if both of them would have met someone else, sooner, later, more fitting. It didn’t matter.

It didn’t need to be the love of his life or anything of the sort.

It felt right, it felt good, it felt alive.

They had more in common than he had wished to realize and it just felt as if things were finally making sense for a change. 

Jaime did deserve to feel happy and he deserved to try and find himself, maybe it was not going to be forever and possibly it was going to turn into simple friends with benefits or a teacher student turbid affair.

But Robb knew he had found a friend somewhere behind that sarcasm and those scars.

Someone just like him, who tried to feed himself with love and use his heart as an ashtray for mistakes. He wanted to learn to love fully, and knew Jaime had to learn to love himself a bit more.

They both had to learn and whether they were going to be the ones they’d learn for or just learn with it didn’t matter, after all.

He hadn’t felt alone in a long time.

Robb was not a bad student: he could spot companionship.


End file.
